


Baby

by son_of_a_bitch_spn_family



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Dean Needs A Hug, Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Folk Music, M/M, Prostitution, Songfic, Tattoos, Trans Castiel (Supernatural), Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 20:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14756037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/son_of_a_bitch_spn_family/pseuds/son_of_a_bitch_spn_family
Summary: “This is her,” Dean tells him.“She's lovely,” Cas says honestly, sincerely.And, Dean just.He falls in love right there, staring at the man who was much more than an enigma. Though he was mysterious, Cas felt real, like the splintered wood of the bar and the growl of Baby's engine. Routine, home.*This is a Fic Commission for the lovely VintageVulpes and it's based of the amazing song called Baby by Ira Wolf.





	Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VintageVulpes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VintageVulpes/gifts).



> He met her smokin' cigarettes in the men's room  
> He liked her high heels, she like his tattoos  
> She said she'd never been east of the west coast  
> Couldn't stand all the palm trees and windows
> 
> Called herself "Baby"  
> Baby
> 
> Growin' up in a first world's worst dream  
> Grace-givin', God-fearin' good family  
> But when his hair grew long and his skin grew soft  
> All they saw was all wrong
> 
> Didn't see baby  
> Baby
> 
> She took him walkin' down the streets of her hometown  
> And she showed him how she makes her livin' now  
> And he made her swear she'll break out  
> Somehow
> 
> And he thinks about her even now  
> Wonder where she's been and how  
> And if she's smokin' cigarettes in the men's room  
> He wants to show her his new tattoo

The gentle folk music drifting through the rustic bar is Dean's only company, not that he minds. He twists the rag in his hands inside the glass in tune with the soft crooning of the banjo being plucked in the background. 

 

It's a quiet evening and Dean stares at the soft sunshine that flows through the gaps in the wooden window covers he needed to replace. A woman hums through the speakers and Dean closes his eyes, settling into the peaceful sound of her words curling sweetly around the banjo. 

 

Dean opens his eyes when his first patron of the day walks in, the door creaking open splitting the peaceful atmosphere. A man with wild, black hair walks in, his hands shaking and his stride quick and determined as heads off to the men's room.

 

Dean knew the man but only just so. He's only seen him a handful of times and always ordered the same thing, drinking one glass and leaving before Dean could ever speak with him. Dean tries to know his regulars as much as they would allow but this man never came often and never stayed long. 

 

But, it mattered. 

 

There was something about the tired fragility in his eyes, as if they'd been open too long and seen too much to ever be closed fully again. And, the way his hands shook, always twisting around his glass as if he could stop the trembling by rubbing his fingers over the smooth surface. Dean spends far too much time wondering about the man, he knows, and that's probably why he finds himself walking to the bathroom and opening the door slowly. 

 

The first thing he notices is the curl of smoke drifting along the mirror, falling from the end of the man's lit cigarette. The man has his hands braced on the sink, puffing out short breaths around the cigarette, sending little tufts of smoke in the air. 

 

“Sir,” Dean murmurs, pausing as the man jerked up and whirled around. “Are you alright?”

 

The man stares at him, slowly reaching up to take a drag from his cigarette and blink at Dean in consideration. Dean should tell the man that he can't smoke in a public restroom but he's fascinated by the way the cigarette sits between the man's plump lips, a small part holding the cigarette precariously, yet there was clearly no risk of it falling. 

 

“I'm,” The man says and stops, just closing his mouth around his cigarette and waiting for Dean's response. 

 

Dean stares at him for a long moment, takes in his lean body seemingly drowning in his trench coat. It's probably too big but it makes the man look unimposing and small. Dean blinks when he realizes that he likes it, that he's grown fond of it in mere seconds. 

 

“I like your trench coat,” Dean blurts out and the man reaches up to fiddle with it carelessly, smiling fondly at the piece of fabric. 

 

And that settles it; Dean  _ loves  _ the trench coat. 

 

“I like your tattoo,” The man replies, nodding to the ink on his arm, and the way his eyes trace it appreciatively makes Dean proud. 

 

“What's your name?” Dean asks. 

 

“Cas,” He replies. “But, I go by Baby.” 

 

Dean's mouth quirks up and for the first time, Cas’ eyes go from guarded to interest, the blue in them brightening. Dean finds himself catapulted into a strange emotion, his breath catching as he feels his mouth unfold from itself, words tumbling out without thought. 

 

“Ironic,” Dean states playfully. “That's my car. I call her Baby.” 

 

“Do you?” Cas hums, amused, still smoking as he spoke. “Do you call her that because you ride in her?” 

 

Dean falters for only a moment before a real smile steals across his face and he says, “No, I call her that because she's my baby. I've had her forever. Would you like to meet her?”

 

He doesn't know why he offers and in such a way, like it's an honor, but Cas tilts his head and smiles. It's wide and fake and his eyes lose the humor but Dean's not sure why. Slowly, flippantly, Cas sweeps a hand out. 

 

“Meet a proper lady?” Cas says. “How can I refuse that?”

 

Dean ducks his head, feeling his legs carry him from the room and out the bar. Cas follows Dean around the back and he gives a hum of approval when they halt in front of Baby. Dean claps his hands and smiles proudly. 

 

“This is her,” Dean tells him. 

 

“She's lovely,” Cas says honestly, sincerely. 

 

And, Dean just. 

 

He falls in love right there, staring at the man who was much more than an enigma. Though he was mysterious, Cas felt real, like the splintered wood of the bar and the growl of Baby's engine. Routine,  _ home.  _

 

“She's been pretty far,” Dean croaks out, his voice cracking. “I like to drive.” 

 

“Probably been further than me,” Cas guesses, flicking his cigarette. “I'm not much of a traveler. Don't stray too far.” 

 

“That's a shame,” Dean tells him. 

 

And, it is. Cas would look lovely with wind blowing through his hair and sand between his toes. Dean suddenly has the intense desire to take Cas far enough that the unmistakable weight on his shoulders couldn't reach him anymore. 

 

“Hm,” Cas murmurs.

 

That's all he says and he stubs out his cigarette, flicking it clear across the parking lot. He meets Dean's eyes, his own eyes steady and sure, like he knows what happens next, like he's lived his entire life to finally reach the next second. It snatches Dean's breath away and he forces a smile. 

 

“Well, thank you for meeting Baby. I'm sure you didn't come to my bar for that, though. Do you want a drink now?” 

 

Cas blinks and he looks confused, his eyes stuck on Dean like  _ he  _ was the mysterious one. Dean waits, content to stare at the man he'd only truly met moments ago. 

 

“No, thank you,” Cas finally answers and with that, he turns around and he leaves. 

 

Dean isn't sure when he will see Cas again and the thought plagues him that Cas may never return at all. 

*

 

It was nearly a month later when Cas shows back up and Dean's just about to close the bar down. As soon as he sees that wild hair, he flips the sign and rushes to hold the door open, his heart seizing in his chest when Cas pauses in the doorway, mere breath away, and offers a kind smile. 

 

“Cas,” Dean whispers, a breathless greeting that Dean doesn't have time to be embarrassed by when Cas walks in. 

 

“Hey,” Cas greets. “I never learned your name last time, by the way.”

 

“Dean. My name is Dean.” 

 

“Okay, Dean. You still open?” 

 

“For you? Yeah,” Dean says honestly, not even ashamed as he walks behind the bar. 

 

“No drinking tonight,” Cas tells him and waves a hand as he sits in a bar stool. 

 

“Okay, what can I do you for?” Dean asks, swinging himself to sit around the bar and shrugs off his flannel. 

 

“Is that another tattoo?” Cas blurts, ignoring his question and reaching out to trace a delicate finger along the tattoo he'd yet to see.

 

“Oh,” Dean murmurs, blinking down at his favorite tattoo. “Yeah, I got it with my little brother.” 

 

“I like it,” Cas tells him seriously. 

 

Dean almost says,  _ I like you.  _

 

“Thanks,” He says instead. 

 

“Hey, Dean,” Cas murmurs, eyes flicking up to stare at Dean intensely. “Can I ask you something and you be completely honest?”

 

“Of course,” Dean answers. 

 

“Would you be willing to drive this Baby in your Baby somewhere?” 

 

Dean blinks. 

 

“I would  _ love  _ to,” Dean whispers earnestly.

 

“I want to show you something.” 

 

That's how Dean ends up driving Cas into the suburb area of town, just on the outskirts, like no one with that much class wants to be around the rest of the broken down town. Cas has him turn into a cul de sac and asks him to slow down, just peering out the window. 

 

“Cas?” Dean asks cautiously. 

 

“I used to live here,” Cas tells him, pointing out at the two story house with light blue trim. 

 

“It's nice,” Dean hums appreciatively. 

 

“I thought so too but now, I just hate it.” 

 

“Why?” 

 

Cas turns his head to stare at Dean, his eyes practically glowing in the dim light. Dean's not sure what's happening but Cas looks as if he's on the edge of something, like he's teetering and he's ready to fly. But, it's bad and Dean wants to fix it, wants to tear the house down and build a new one that Cas will like, that won't cause him such stifling pain. 

 

Cas shoves across the seat and grabs Dean close, pressing his lips to Dean's with open desperation. Dean automatically leans into it, his breath escaping him as all thoughts came to a screeching halt. A moan slipped out and splintered off as Dean reached up to press his hand against the softness of Cas’ jaw. 

 

Tears. 

 

There were tears crawling down Cas’ face and Dean pulled back gently, pressing both hands to Cas’ cheeks and staring at him in concern. Cas blinks at him and takes in a shuddered breath, his face open and readable for the first time since Dean met him, his expression making it clear that he'd fallen from the edge with a jump. 

 

“I hate it because my family are in there right now, enjoying a meal, and I am not welcome,” Cas admits. 

 

“Why not?” Dean asks, baffled. 

 

“They loved me long ago, but it wasn't me. It was who I pretended to be,” Cas explains. “My hair was long and soft and I was going to marry a great man. They had a problem with me becoming a great man instead. Guess we were all wrong in the end.” 

 

“You're a- You were-”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Oh,” Dean whispers and blinks. 

 

“You can put me out here,” Cas says wearily, sighing heavily. “I'll walk home.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Dean breathes.

 

“I like you, Dean. Probably because you don't look at me like a mistake but you're a good man. I understand if you don't-”

 

“Oh! Oh, god no. Cas, hey, listen to me. You  _ are  _ a great man. The reason I reacted that way was because I had no idea. I look at you so often, I figured I should've noticed.” 

 

“You did,” Cas chokes out, eyes drifting closed as fresh tears fell. “You saw me as I am, Dean. I can never be more thankful.” 

 

“Okay, shh. Hey, come on,” Dean murmurs, reaching out and grasping Cas’ hand to hold in comfort. “Let's get you home, yeah?” 

 

Cas nods and they speed out of the suburb area of town, every mile they put behind them like shaking off a nightmare. Cas breathes easier as they get closer to his apartment but he stops Dean in front of a convenience store. 

 

“I can walk from here,” Cas says.

 

“No, you don't have to do that.”

 

Cas goes still and turns to look at Dean, the guard back up. Dean aches for it to vanish, wants to press close to Cas and make him feel safe enough to be free. Cas seems to sense his genuineness and his face softens as he swallows thickly. 

 

“I don't want you to see where I live.”

 

“Oh, yeah, I get it. I'm practically a stranger. No, I understand, Cas,” Dean says, refusing to be hurt because he does understand. 

 

“No, Dean,” Cas assures him quickly, reaching out to place his hand over the tattoo on his arm. “It's a piece of shit. I'm making ends meet right now, just barely.”

 

“Where do you work at?” Dean asks, already going over every connection he had. “I might know a few people who can help you if you have the experience.” 

 

“I don't work anywhere,” Cas tells him gently, staring at Dean like he was something innocent. “I was young when my family kicked me out. I did what I had to do to survive. There are a lot of people who pay to fuck a trans guy, Dean.” 

 

Dean feels his face crumble as his chest tightens, a stinging starting up behind his eyes as he pictured Cas, so young and so scared, surviving the only way he could. Everything screamed at Dean to fix it, to end Cas’ problems, and just take care of him, but Dean knew that would have to be Cas’ choice. 

 

“You deserve better,” Dean burts out, reaching up to shove his palms into his closed eyes and bring in a shuddering breath. “Fuck, you deserve so much better, Cas.” 

 

“Maybe,” Cas allows, not sounding entirely sure. “But, it's hard to get away from.”

 

“Please, Cas,” Dean begs shamelessly, reaching out to hold Cas’ shoulders. “Please get away from it.” 

 

“Okay,” Cas says quietly. 

 

“Promise me,” Dean demands, though he knows it wouldn't do any good.

 

“I promise, Dean,” Cas swears, raising his gaze to lock on with Dean's, giving Dean a sense of hope. 

 

There's nothing else to say and Cas gets out the car and walks away. Dean watches him leave until he can't see him any longer. Eventually, he turns around and drives back to the bar, needing a drink. 

*

 

Cas doesn't come back for a long time and Dean realizes that he's lost something important. He goes out and leaves a token to the love he never got to explore in the best way he knows how. 

 

He wears the trans tattoo in a Celtic knot with pride, waiting for the day he could show Cas, waiting for the moment that he will come back.

 

One day, he does. 

 

He walks through the door as if he'd never left, head held high. Dean drops a glass, not caring that it shatters, and moves around the counter, eyes locked on the beautiful man before him. Cas smiles at him and spreads his arms wide, showing himself off. 

 

“I promised, didn't I?” Cas asks. 

 

Dean forces himself not to cry and shoves forward, reaching out to tuck Cas into his arms, just holding him. That was the last time Cas walked away from him, he would make sure of it. Cas sighs softly, squeezing him before peeling back and smiling brightly, the guard erased from his eyes. 

 

“I want to show you something,” Dean whispers and he holds his arm out, putting his tattoo on display. 

 

Cas stares down at it, rooted to the spot and silent. Gently, he rubs his finger over it and looks up, tears visible in his eyes. He leans down and gently kisses it, his lips warm and healing something cracked in Dean. 

 

“I love it,” Cas whispers. 

 

_ I love you,  _ Dean almost replies. 

 

“Come home with me,” Dean says instead, heart full of hope.

 

Cas smiles and takes Dean's hand. With a promise in his grip, Cas  _ does.  _ He stays that night and never quite leaves. 

 

Dean refuses to have it any other way. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic commission for the lovely VintageVulpes! I enjoyed writing this so much and fell in love with this song and story! Thank you so much, dear!


End file.
